


Clarity of Mind

by tj_teejay



Category: 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: 12 Monkeys Theme Week, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tj_teejay/pseuds/tj_teejay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe running from the West VII wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Cole realizes that now, but what’s done is done, right? 12 Monkeys fic written for Day 2 of the 12 Monkeys Theme Week 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Clarity of Mind  
>  **Author:** TeeJay  
>  **Fandom:** 12 Monkeys (Syfy)  
>  **Genre:** Gen  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Cole, Ramse  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Summary:** Maybe running from the West VII wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Cole realizes that now, but what’s done is done, right?  
>  **Author's Note:** 12 Monkeys fic written for Day 2 (Extended Scene from “Atari”) of the 12 Monkeys Theme Week 2015. This scene takes place in 2035, about a week after Cole and Ramse ran away from the West VII.  
>  **Disclaimer:** None of this is mine except for my vivid imagination. Copyright to characters and situations belongs to Terry Matalas, Travis Fickett, Atlas Entertainment, Syfy Channel, and whoever else might wish to claim ownership. I'm just borrowing for a little escapism and a whole lot of fun.
> 
> +-+-+-+-+

Sometimes Cole wishes that he’d gone through with it—that he’d shot Ramse in the tent, just like Deacon wanted.

Living on nothing but too few torn clothes in the chilly Pennsylvanian spring isn’t what gets to him. It’s the hunger. It’s the constant struggle, never knowing if he will survive the day or not.

Yes, the West VII isn’t perfect. He didn’t enjoy the mindless brutality, but he knew it was a necessary evil. Or at least he tries to tell himself that. But there was food and shelter. Those weeks they ran with them, he didn’t have to sleep with one ear open, always looking over his shoulder. It was nice not being on the brink of exhaustion all the time.

And now they’re back here, sleeping in makeshift alcoves in the forest, maybe an abandoned building if they’re lucky. Hunger is an eternal companion, and the occasional trophy from a successful hunt can’t quite make up for all the days they’re barely getting by on scraps.

Ramse tosses and turns on a ratty blanket next to him. Cole can’t make out what he’s mumbling. He turns on his side and tries to sleep, but he’s too wired. If he killed Ramse now, would the West VII take him back?

No. He wants to kick himself for even thinking that. Ramse is his oldest friend. They’ve known each other since they were kids. They’ve always looked out for each other, in the best and especially the worst of times. It was fate that both of them were immune. How could he ever mess with that?

He grunts in frustration and gets up from his makeshift bed. There are no clocks here, but from the fading moonlight he guesses it’s maybe 4 or 5 AM. A few birds chirp in the distance, which seems wrong in this bleak world Cole finds himself in.

He rummages around in his backpack. He’s hungry. He’s thirsty. They have nothing left. “Shit,” he mutters.

He spins round when he hears Ramse’s drowsy voice. “You could at least let me sleep if you decide to burn the midnight oil.”

“We have no food,” Cole just states.

“Yeah, what else is new?”

“Look, we can’t live like this.”

Ramse shakes his head. “Are we back to this again?”

“No, we’re not _back_ to anything. We’ve never been anything other than this. It’s been so long, I don’t even...” he doesn’t know what to say, really. It’s all been said.

Ramse gives him a provocative look. “So go back. Go back to Deacon and his cult. You liked the idea of a community well enough.”

Cole lets out a huffy breath. “Yeah, right. Deacon would have my head on a silver platter if I ever showed my face there again, and you know it. The only way now is forward. Or starvation—whichever one’s gonna hit us first.”

“Here,” Ramse says, digging something out of his backpack. It’s an old candy bar, God knows where he got it from. “Been saving this for a special occasion.”

Cole meets his friend’s eyes in the half light. “No, man, I can’t take that.”

“Yes, you can. Take it as a thank you for saving my life.”

A part of him wants to refuse, because saving Ramse’s life couldn’t be further from the truth, but then his mouth starts to water and the burning in his stomach intensifies with a vengeance.

The plastic wrapper comes away with a crackling noise, and Cole breaks the candy bar in two. The creamy part has dried, but the caramel still comes apart in strings. He hands the bigger half back to his friend who cracks a small smile.

“This is good,” Ramse mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate and sugar.

“If you ignore the staleness, yes.”

“Always with the criticism. Just... savor the moment, okay?”

“Okay,” Cole grins back, taking another bite, one that is too big because there’s barely anything left now.

Then he looks at his friend, and he realizes maybe it doesn’t matter, as long as he has Ramse. The man who will always have his back and give his last candy bar to a friend if he has to. That’s a rare thing to have in this day and age.

As Cole swallows down the last bite, he hopes he has the clarity of mind to remember that the next time he feels like wanting to strangle the guy.

+-+-+-+-+


End file.
